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Building  Use  Only 


A    STORY    GARDEN 
For  Little  Children 


^ooftg  fog 
MAUD   LINDSAY 


A  STORY  GARDEN  for  Little  Children 

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By  MAUD  LINDSAY  and 
EMILIE  POULSSON 

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LITTLE  SLEEPYHEAD. 


Lib. 

T 

A  STOFCf  GARDEN   ncisc* 

for  LITTLE/  CHILDREN 


BOSTON 

LOTHROP,   LEE,  Ct     SHEPARJD     CO. 


Published,  March,  1913 

Copyright,  1913,  by  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 
All  Rights  Reserved 
A  STORY  GARDEN 


Nortoooti  Prtsa 
Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,   MasB.,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

ittHe  3ToneB 

THE    FOUNDER   OF  THE    FLORENCE   FREE   KINDER- 
GARTEN,  AND   A    LOVER   OF   LITTLE 
CHILDREN    EVERYWHERE 


INTRODUCTION 


To  those  who  know  Miss  Maud  Lindsay's  stories 
for  little  children,1  a  new  collection  needs  no  herald- 
ing. She  has  proved  herself  gifted  with  loving  in- 
sight, literary  ability,  and  spiritual  power.  Her 
stories,  whether  told  in  kindergarten,  school,  or  Sun- 
day-school, or  perused  by  little  readers,  have  charmed 
children  and  touched  their  hearts. 

The  stories  in  "  A  Story  Garden  "  are  addressed, 
in  the  main,  to  the  nursery  public  —  a  public  in  pina- 
fore and  rompers,  —  to  the  very  youngest  listeners. 
Any  one  who  uses  them  with  little  children,  whether 
realizing  or  not  the  art  required  for  such  writing,  will 
find  the  stories  wonderful  in  their  fitness  and  endur- 
ing interest.     Repetition  only  endears   them  to  the 

1 "  Mother  Stories  "  and  "  More  Mother  Stories." 
v 


VI 


INTRODUCTION 


listening  child,  for,  unlike  many  "  simple "  stories, 
which  are  merely  pretty  little  nothings,  Miss  Lind- 
say's have  point  and  truth  that  the  young  child  can 
understand. 

To  invite  little  children  and  their  retinue  of  loving 
attendants  to  enter  "  A  Story  Garden  "  and  enjoy  its 
fair  blossoms  and  wholesome  fruit,  is  a  privilege  of 
which  I  gladly  avail  myself,  because  I  can  unquali- 
fiedly commend  Miss  Lindsay's  stories  as  the  very 
best  I  know  of  for  little  children.  They  are  by  far 
the  best  literary  product  (of  their  kind)  that  can  be 
traced  to  the  kindergarten  or  to  the  new  understand- 
ing of  childhood  that  marks  our  time.  Trust  them. 
Use  them.  They  will  give  joy,  refine  the  taste,  enrich 
the  imagination,  and  gently  impel  the  child  toward 
the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good. 

Emilie  Poulsson. 


PREFACE 

— ♦ 

Children  delight  in  folk-tale  and  fairy  lore,  but  the 
very  little  child  loves  best  the  story  which  mirrors  the 
familiar.  And  it  is  for  him,  and  for  the  mother  who  is 
striving  in  this  age  of  profusion  to  guard  the  innate 
simplicity  of  her  child's  nature,  that  I  have  written 
my  little  stories. 

Maud  Lindsay. 

Sheffield,  Ala. 


*t 


Stories   in   A   Story   Garden 


PAGE 

Little  Sleepy  Head i 

The  Lovely  Moon  . 

4 

The  Wind's  Fun 

7 

The  Brown  Birds  . 

IO 

The  Stick  Horse    . 

17 

"  Tickity  -  Tock  "    . 

20 

The  Saucer  Pie 

23 

Thimble  Biscuit 

26 

The  Wee  Nest. 

29 

The  Strawberry  Shortcake 

32 

Good  News       .... 

35 

The  Roll  of  Bread 

39 

Three  Guesses 

43 

The  Snowball  . 

47 

Santa  Claus 

51 

Ten  Pennies     .       . 

55 

The  Lost  Doll 

63 

Little  Dog  and  Big  Dog 

68 

The  Little  King's  Rabbits 

•       77 

The  Snowman  . 

.       84 

Pictures   in   A   Story   Garden 


LITTLE  SLEEPY  HEAD Frontispiece 

FACING  PACE 

THE  LOVELY  MOON 4 

THE  WIND'S   FUN 8 

THE  BROWN  BIRDS 12 

THE  STICK  HORSE 18 

"  TICKITY  -  TOCK  " 20 

THE   SAUCER  PIE 24 

THIMBLE   BISCUIT 26 

THE   WEE   NEST 30 

THE   STRAWBERRY  SHORTCAKE 32 

GOOD   NEWS 36 

THE   ROLL  OF  BREAD 40 

THREE   GUESSES 44 

THE  SNOWBALL 48 

SANTA  CLAUS 52 

TEN   PENNIES 56 

THE  LOST  DOLL 64 

LITTLE  DOG  AND   BIG  DOG 72 

THE  LITTLE  KING'S   RABBITS 80 

THE   SNOWMAN 86 


A    STORY    GARDEN 

FOR    LITTLE    CHILDREN 


LITTLE    SLEEPY    HEAD 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  early  in  the  morning  when 
the  sun  was  just  climbing  over  the  hills  and 
all  the  clouds  were  rosy  pink,  a  little  child  lay 
asleep  in  his  pretty  white  bed. 

"  Wake  up,  wake  up,"  ticked  the  clock  that  stood 
on  the  mantel.  "  Wake  up,  wake  up;  "  but  the  child 
did  not  hear  a  word  that  it  said. 

"  I  '11  wake  him  up,"  said  a  bird  that  lived  in  a  tree 
close  by  the  window.  "  He  throws  me  crumbs  to  eat 
every  day,  and  I  will  wake  him  with  a  song."  So  the 
bird  sat  in  the  tree  and  sang  and  sang,  "  Wake  up, 
dearie,  dearie,  dearie,"  till  all  the  birds  in  the  garden 


2  A    STORY    GARDEN 

waked  up  and  sang  with  her;  but  the  little  child  slept 
on  in  his  pretty  white  bed. 

He  was  still  asleep  when  the  wind  from  the  South 
blew  through  the  garden.  "  I  know  this  little  child," 
said  the  wind.  "  I  turned  his  windmill  for  him  yes- 
terday, and  I  will  blow  through  the  window  and  wake 
him  with  a  kiss."  So  the  wind  blew  through  the  win- 
dow and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks,  and  blew  his 
curls  about  his  face;  but  the  child  did  not  stir  in  his 
pretty  white  bed. 

"  He  is  waiting  for  me  to  call  him,"  said  the  rooster 
in  the  barnyard.  "  Nobody  knows  him  so  well  as  I, 
for  I  belong  to  him,  and  I  will  wake  him."  So  the 
rooster  stood  on  the  fence  and  flapped  his  wings,  and 
crowed :  — 

"  Cock,  cock  a  doo, 
I  'm  calling  you. 
Wake  up,  wake  up, 
Cock,  cock  a  doo." 


LITTLE    SLEEPY    HEAD  3 

He  waked  the  yellow  chickens  and  the  old  hen,  the 
pigeons  in  the  pigeon-house,  and  the  little  red  calf  in 
the  barn.  Even  the  lambs  in  the  meadow  heard  his 
call;  but  he  did  not  wake  the  little  child,  though  he 
crowed  till  he  was  hoarse. 

Now  by  this  time  the  sun  was  bright  in  the  sky. 
It  shone  over  the  hills  and  the  meadows.  It  shone 
in  the  barnyard  where  the  noisy  rooster  crowed  and 
in  the  garden  where  the  birds  sang,  and  it  shone 
through  the  window  right  into  the  little  child's  face. 
And  then  the  little  child  opened  his  eyes !  "  Mamma, 
Mamma,"  he  called;  and  his  mamma  came  in  at  once 
to  dress  him.  "Who  waked  my  baby  child?"  asked 
she;  but  nobody  answered,  for  not  even  little  Sleepy 
Head  himself  knew  that  it  was  the  sun. 


THE    LOVELY    MOON 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  child  who 
did  not  want  to  go  to  bed. 

"  The  yellow  chickens  are  all  asleep,"  said 
his  mother,  as  she  undressed  him.  "  I  heard  the  old 
hen  calling  them,  cluck,  cluck,  cluck,  before  you  had 
eaten  your  supper." 

"  But  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  sleep,"  said  the  child. 

"  The  pigeons  are  all  asleep,"  said  his  mother,  "  up 
in  the  pigeon  house.  '  Coo-roo,  coo-roo,  good-night,' 
they  said,  then  tucked  their  heads  under  their  wings." 

"  But  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  sleep,"  said  the  child. 

"  The  little  red  calf  is  asleep  in  the  barn,"  said  the 
mother;  "and  the  lambs  are  asleep  on  green  clover 
beds; "  and  she  put  the  child  into  his  own  white  bed. 

It  was  a  soft  downy  bed  close  beside  a  window,  but 
the  child  did  not  want  to  lie  there.    He  tossed  about 


THE  LOVELY  MOON. 


THE   LOVELY    MOON  5 

under  the  coverlet,  and  the  tears  were  beginning  to 
run  down  his  cheeks  when,  all  at  once,  the  moon 
looked  in  at  the  window. 

"  There!  "  said  his  mother.  "  The  moon  has  come 
to  tell  you  good-night.    See  how  it  is  smiling." 

The  moon  shone  right  into  the  child's  eyes. 
"  Good  night,  little  child,  sleep  well,"  it  seemed  to 
say. 

"  Good  night,"  said  he;  and  he  lay  still  on  his  bed, 
and  watched  the  moon  while  his  mother  sang:  — 


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A    STORY    GARDEN 


"Can  the  moon  see  the  lambs?"  asked  the  child 
sleepily.  His  eyelids  were  so  heavy  that  he  could 
scarcely  keep  them  open,  while  the  moon  looked  in  at 
the  window  and  his  mother  sang:  — 


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I  see    the    sheep,      I  see    a    ba  -  by  child     go  -  ing    to  sleep. 

The  moon  smiled  at  the  child  and  his  mother,  and 
the  mother  smiled  at  the  moon;  but  the  little  child 
did  not  see  them,  for  he  was  fast  asleep. 


THE    WIND'S    FUN 

ONE  day  the  wind  blew  through  the  town,  and 
oh,  how  merry  it  was!  It  whistled  down  the 
chimneys,  and  scampered  round  the  corners, 
and  sang  in  the  tree  tops.  "  Come  and  dance,  come 
and  dance,  come  and  dance  with  me,"  that  is  what  it 
seemed  to  say. 

And  what  could  keep  from  dancing  to  such  a  merry 
tune?  The  clothes  danced  on  the  clothes-line,  the 
leaves  danced  on  the  branches  of  the  trees,  a  bit  of 
paper  danced  about  the  street,  and  a  little  boy's  hat 
danced  off  of  his  head  and  down  the  sidewalk  as  fast 
as  it  could  go. 

It  was  a  sailor  hat  with  a  blue  ribbon  around  it; 
and  the  ends  of  the  ribbons  flew  out  behind  like  little 
blue  flags. 


8  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  Stop!  "  cried  the  little  boy  as  it  blew  away;  but 
the  hat  could  not  stop.  The  wind  whirled  it  and 
twirled  it,  and  landed  it  at  last  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  street. 

"  Now  I'll  get  it,"  said  the  child,  and  he  was  just 
reaching  his  hand  out  for  it  when  off  it  went  again, 
rolling  over  and  over  like  a  hoop. 

"  Nobody  can  catch  me,"  thought  the  hat  proudly; 
"  and  I  do  not  know  myself  how  far  I  shall  go." 

Just  then  the  wind  whisked  it  into  an  alley,  and 
dropped  it  behind  a  barrel  there.  When  the  little  boy 
looked  into  the  alley,  it  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  Where  is  my  new  sailor  hat?  "  he  cried. 

"  Ho!  ho!  I  know,"  laughed  the  wind,  and  it  blew 
behind  the  barrel,  and  fluttered  the  ends  of  the  blue 
ribbon  till  the  little  boy  spied  them. 

"  Hurrah!  "  said  he;  and  he  ran  to  pick  up  the  hat 
1  in  a  hurry. 

"  The  wind  shall  not  get  my  new  hat  again,"  he 


'f  i«,?v-r^  ■  ■   : 


THE  WIND'S  FUN. 


THE   WIND'S    FUN 


9 


said;  and  he  put  it  on  his  head  and  held  it  with  both 
hands  all  the  way  home. 

But  as  for  the  clothes  on  the  clothes-line,  and  the 
leaves  on  the  trees,  and  the  bit  of  paper  in  the  street, 
they  danced  on  and  on,  till  the  wind  blew  away;  and 
that  is  the  end  of  the  story. 


THE    BROWN    BIRDS 

ONE  fair   spring  morning   two   bonny   brown 
birds  sat  on  a  lilac  bush  twittering  and  chirp- 
ing:— 
"  Chee,  chee,  cheeree.     Where  shall  we  make  our 
little  nest?" 

u  Make  it  here  in  my  branches,"  said  the  maple  tree 
that  grew  by  the  garden  gate.  "  Many  a  nest  have  I 
held  in  my  arms.    Make  it  here." 

The  maple  tree  was  strong  and  green  and  beautiful. 
Its  wide-spreading  branches  reached  from  the  garden 
path  far  over  the  road  beyond  the  gate;  and  they 
rocked  like  a  cradle  in  the  wind  that  fair  spring  morn- 
ing. Oh !  it  was  the  very  place  to  make  a  nest,  and  as 
soon  as  the  brown  birds  had  looked  at  it  they  decided 
to  build  there. 

"  Chee,  chee,  cheeree,"  they  sang  in  the  sunshine. 

10 


THE    BROWN    BIRDS  11 

"  We  '11  make  our  nest  in  the  maple  tree, 
Oh!  we  are  so  happy,  chee,  chee,  cheeree." 

They  twittered  and  chirped  and  trilled  and  sang 
till  a  cow,  that  was  eating  her  breakfast  of  hay  in  the 
barnyard  near  by,  put  her  head  over  the  fence  to  ask 
the  news.  When  the  brown  birds  told  her  what  they 
were  going  to  do  she  did  not  wonder  at  their  singing. 

"  If  you  need  any  hay,"  said  she,  "  fly  over  the 
fence  and  help  yourselves  to  some  of  mine.  There  is 
plenty  here  for  you  and  me;  and  I  have  heard  my 
friend  the  speckled  hen  say  that  there  is  nothing  bet- 
ter for  a  nest  than  hay." 

"  Very  true,"  said  the  maple  tree.  "  Every  bird 
must  suit  himself,  but  I  agree  with  the  speckled  hen, 
and  I  have  held  enough  nests  to  know  something 
about  them." 

The  brown  birds  looked  at  each  other  wisely. 

"  Chee,  chee,  cheeree,"  they  sang  again. 


12  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  We  '11  weave  our  little  nest  of  hay; 
And  we  '11  begin  this  very  day 
To  make  it  in  the  maple  tree. 
Oh!  we  are  so  happy,  chee,  chee,  cheeree," 

sang  the  birds  as  they  hurried  into  the  barnyard. 

They  could  take  only  a  little  hay  at  a  time  in  their 
bills,  but  they  chose  the  nicest,  longest  pieces  they 
could  find,  and  were  just  ready  to  fly  away  with  them 
when  a  horse  came  galloping  up. 

"  This  is  no  way  to  carry  hay,"  he  cried.  "  Tell  me 
where  you  live,  and  I  will  bring  it  to  your  barn  in  a 
wagon." 

Then  the  two  birds  laughed  till  they  dropped  the 
hay  from  their  bills;  the  cow  laughed  till  her  bell 
tinkled;  the  maple  tree  laughed  till  its  leaves  shook; 
and  the  horse  laughed,  too,  though  he  did  not  know 
what  the  joke  was,  till  the  cow  told  him. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said  to  the  birds,  "  if  I  cannot  haul 


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THE  BROWN  BIRDS. 


THE    BROWN    BIRDS  13 

your  hay  for  you,  perhaps  I  may  give  you  some  hairs 
from  my  mane  for  your  nest.  I  am  sure  I  can't  see 
what  use  they  can  be,  but  a  bird  in  the  pasture  begged 
for  some,  and  she  said  she  was  building  a  nest  in  the 
hedge." 


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"  Chee,  chee,  cheeree.    'T  is  nice  to  line 
A  nest  of  hay  with  horsehair  fine. 
We  're  building  in  the  maple  tree, 
And  we  are  so  happy,  chee,  chee,  cheeree," 

chirped  the  birds. 

By  this  time  everybody  in  the  barnyard  knew  that 
two  brown  birds  were  making  a  nest  in  the  maple  tree 
by  the  garden  gate;  and  everybody  wanted  to  help 
them. 

"Take  this  with  my  love,"  called  the  pigeon;  and 
she  dropped  a  feather  from  her  soft  white  breast,  as 
she  flew  from  the  pigeon  house. 


14  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  We,  too,  have  feathers  to  spare,"  cried  the  hen 
and  the  goose. 

"  Every  nest  is  the  better  for  a  bit  of  down,"  said 
the  duck.    "  And  I  can  give  that." 

The  two  birds  were  pleased  with  everything. 

"  Chee,  chee,  chee,  chee,  cheeree,"  sang  they, 
"  With  feathers  soft,  and  hair,  and  hay, 

How  fine  our  little  nest  will  be 

Up  in  the  dear  old  maple  tree. 

Oh!   we  are  so  happy,  chee,  chee,  cheeree." 

They  were  busy  all  the  fair  spring  morning  carry- 
ing the  gifts  to  the  maple  tree;  and  as  they  flew  back 
and  forth  a  little  girl  spied  them,  and  called  to  her 
mother:  — 

"  Oh,  mother,  come  and  see  these  little  birds  with 
feathers  and  hay  in  their  bills.  What  are  they  do- 
ing?" 


THE    BROWN    BIRDS  15 

"  I  know,"  said  her  mother.  "  They  are  building 
a  nest  in  our  maple  tree.  Would  you  like  to  give 
them  a  piece  of  cloth  like  your  new  pink  dress  for 
their  nest?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  said  the  child;  and  she  ran  and  got 
the  cloth  from  the  scrap  bag,  and  hung  it  on  the  lilac 
bush.  It  had  not  been  there  longer  than  a  minute 
when  down  flew  a  brown  bird  to  get  it. 

"  Chee,  chee,"  he  sang,  "  what  do  you  think? 
I  've  found  a  lovely  bit  of  pink 
To  trim  our  nest  up  in  the  tree. 
Oh!   I  am  so  happy,  chee,  chee,  cheeree." 

"  Just  what  we  needed,"  said  the  other  brown  bird; 
and  she  made  haste  to  weave  it  into  the  nest,  for  there 
was  no  time  to  waste. 

Over  and  under,  in  and  out,  twisting  and  pulling, 
they  wove  the  cloth  and  the  hay  together,  with  a 
lining  of  hair  and  downy  feathers. 


16 


A    STORY    GARDEN 


The  nest  was  finished  by  the  time  the  little  girl's 
papa  came  home  to  dinner,  and  he  held  her  up  in  his 
arms  to  see  it. 

"  I  'm  glad  I  gave  them  a  piece  like  my  new  dress," 
she  said,  when  she  spied  the  bit  of  pink  woven  into 
the  nest. 

"  Chee,  chee,  so  are  we,"  sang  the  brown  birds  in 
the  tree  top. 


"  We  're  glad  we  made  our  nest  of  hay. 
We  're  glad  we  finished  it  to-day. 
We  're  glad  we  built  in  the  maple  tree. 
Oh!  we  are  so  happy,  chee,  chee,  cheeree." 


THE    STICK    HORSE 

THERE  was  once  a  little  boy  who  was  too  tired 
to  walk;   or  at  least  he  thought  he  was.     He 
and   his  mother  and  the  baby  were  at  his 
grandmother's  house  and  it  was  time  to  go  home,  but 
he  sat  down  on  the  doorstone  and  felt  very  sure  that 
he  could  not  go  a  step  farther. 

"  Somebody  will  have  to  carry  me,"  he  said. 
"  Well,"  said  his  mother,  who  had  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  "  what  shall  we  do?  " 

And  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  what  they  would  have 
done  if  the  little  boy's  grandmother  had  not  come  out 
just  then  to  see  what  the  matter  was. 

"If  he  cannot  walk  he  must  ride,"  she  said;  and 
she  went  into  the  house  and  got  the  old  hearth  broom, 
and  the  mop  handle,  and  one  of  Grandfather's  walk- 
ing-sticks and  brought  them  all  out  to  the  little  boy. 

17 


18  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  will  you  ride  a  slow  and  steady 
gray  horse,  or  a  sleek-as-satin  bay  horse,  or  will  you 
ride  a  black  horse  that  is  spirited  and  gay?  " 

"  I  like  black  horses  best,"  said  the  little  boy;  "  and 
I  will  ride  that  one,  please." 

"Very  well,"  said  Grandmother;  and  she  took 
Grandfather's  walking-stick  and  gave  it  to  the  little 
boy.  "  This  is  a  very  fast  horse,"  she  said.  "  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  you  got  home  before  your 
mother  and  the  baby;  but  do  be  careful." 

"  I  will,"  promised  the  little  boy;  and  away  he  rode 
on  the  stick  horse,  gallop,  gallop,  gallop! 

By  the  time  Mother  and  the  baby  came  out  of 
Grandmother's  gate  the  little  boy  was  at  the  corner. 
When  they  reached  the  corner  he  had  passed  the  big 
elm  tree  that  grew  by  the  sidewalk.  When  he  rode 
up  the  little  hill  beyond  the  elm,  trot,  trot,  trot,  they 
almost  caught  up  with  him;  but  when  they  went 
down  on  the  other  side  he  was  far  ahead. 


.y-V*v*^2ft5s 


,:      '  ^..:...   :',•-     . 


ij  is  &.. 


THE  STICK  HORSE. 


THE    STICK   HORSE 


19 


Gallop,  gallop,  gallop  —  almost  before  the  little 
boy  knew  it  himself  he  was  at  home;  and  when 
Mother  and  the  baby  got  there  the  stick  horse  was 
hitched  to  the  red  rose  bush,  and  the  little  boy  sat  on 
the  doorstep  laughing. 

"  I  got  home  first.  I  got  home  first.  I  can  ride  fast 
on  my  black  horse,"  said  the  little  boy. 


"TICKITY -TOCK" 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  clock  that  stood 
on  the  mantel  in  a  little  boy's  mother's  room, 
ticking  merrily  night  and  day,  "  Tickity, 
tickity  tock."  It  told  the  little  boy's  father  when  to 
go  to  work  and  his  mother  when  to  get  dinner,  and 
sometimes  it  talked  to  the  little  boy  himself.  "  Go  to 
bed,  Sleepy  Head,"  that  is  what  it  seemed  to  say  at 
bedtime;  and  in  the  morning  it  ticked  out  loud  and 
clear,  as  if  it  were  calling,  "  Wake  up !  wake  up!  wake 
up!" 

The  little  boy's  mother  always  knew  just  what  it 
meant  by  its  tickity,  tickity  tock,  and  late  one  after- 
noon, when  he  was  playing  with  his  toys  and  the  clock 
was  ticking  on  the  mantel,  she  said :  — 

"  Listen,  little  boy,  the  clock  has  something  to  tell 

you:  — 

20 


TICKETY   TOCK. 


"  TICKITY  -  TOCK  "  21 

"  '  Tickity,  tickity  tock,'  it  is  saying, 
'  Tickity  tock,  it  is  time  to  stop  playing; 
Somebody's  coming  so  loving  and  dear, 
You  must  be  ready  to  welcome  him  here.'  " 

Then  the  little  boy  jumped  up  in  a  hurry  and  put 
his  hobby-horse  in  the  corner  and  his  pony  lines  on  a 
hook  in  the  closet  and  his  tin  soldiers  in  a  straight 
row  on  the  cupboard  shelf. 

"  Now  I  'm  ready,"  he  said,  but:  — 

"  '  Tickity,  tickity,  tickity  tock! 

Time  to  tidy  yourself,'  said  the  clock." 

"Oh!"  said  the  little  boy,  when  his  mother  told 
him  this;  but  he  stood  very  still  while  she  washed  his 
hands  and  his  rosy  face  and  combed  his  curls  till  they 
were  smooth  and  shining. 

"  Now  I  'm  ready,"  he  cried,  but  Mother  said:  — 


22 


A    STORY    GARDEN 


"  Why,  are  you  going  to  forget  your  nice  little 
blouse  that  you  've  never  worn  yet?  " 

"  '  Tickity,  tickity,  tickity  tock, 

Time  for  clean  clothes,  little  boy,'  says  the  clock." 

Then  she  made  haste  to  get  the  blouse  out  of  the 
dresser  drawer,  where  it  had  been  ever  since  it  was 
finished.  It  had  a  big  collar  and  a  tie,  and  when  the 
little  boy  put  it  on  he  looked  like  a  sailor  man. 

"  Now  I  'm  ready,"  he  said,  and  —  do  you  believe 
it?  —  the  very  next  minute  the  door  opened  and  in 
walked  the  little  boy's  father. 

"  I  knew  you  were  coming,"  said  the  little  boy, 
"  and  so  did  Mother.  The  clock  told  us  and  I  have 
on  my  new  blouse."     - 


n 


n 


JZ2* 


THE    SAUCER    PIE 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  saucer  pie.    A 
saucer  pie  is  one  that  is  baked  in  a  saucer  in- 
stead of  a  pan;   and  if  you  have  never  seen 
one,  I  hope  you  will  before  you  are  a  hundred  years 
old. 

This  pie  was  baked  in  a  saucer  that  belonged  to  a 
little  girl  named  Polly.  Her  grandmother  had  given 
her  the  saucer,  and  it  was  as  blue  as  the  sky. 

When  her  mamma  took  the  pie  out  of  the  oven,  and 
put  it  on  the  table  to  cool,  she  said :  — 

"  Here  is  a  nice  little,  brown  little  pie, 
Baked  in  a  saucer  as  blue  as  the  sky." 

The  pie  belonged  to  Polly,  as  well  as  the  saucer. 

23 


24  A    STORY    GARDEN 

Her  mamma  had  baked  it  for  her  because  it  was  her 
birthday;  and  she  was  very  proud  of  it. 

"  Tell  me  about  it  again,"  she  said,  as  she  stood 
on  tiptoe  by  the  table  to  see  it.  Then  her  mamma 
said:  — 

"  Here  is  a  pie  that  is  dainty  and  sweet, 
Baked  in  a  saucer,  for  Polly  to  eat." 

But  Polly  did  not  want  to  eat  her  saucer  pie  by 
herself. 

"  I  will  have  a  party,"  she  said;  and  away  she  went 
with  dancing  feet  to  call  her  neighbors  in. 

There  was  Martha,  and  Margaret,  and  little  boy 
John;  and  all  of  them  came  to  Polly's  party. 

When  they  got  there  the  table  was  set  with  Polly's 
doll  dishes,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  table  was  the  pie. 

"  A  nice  little  pie,  in  a  saucer  blue, 
Baked  in  the  oven  for  Polly  and  you," 


THE  SAUCER  PIE. 


THE    SAUCER   PIE 


25 


said  Mamma,  as  she  cut  the  pie,  once  across  this  way, 
and  once  across  that.  Each  child  had  a  slice;  and 
then,  nibble,  nibble,  — 

All  that  was  left  of  the  saucer-pie, 

Was  a  crumb  in  the  saucer  as  blue  as  the  sky. 


■   THIMBLE    BISCUIT 

NCE  upon  a  time  Polly's  mamma  was  making 
biscuit  for  supper. 

She  sifted  the  flour  so  fine,  and  white; 
And  kneaded  the  dough  till  it  was  light, 
And  rolled  it  out  with  a  rolling  pin; 
And  cut  the  biscuit  round  and  thin. 


Polly  watched  her  do  everything;  and  when  the 
last  biscuit  was  in  the  biscuit  pan,  Mamma  said:  — 

"  Here  is  a  piece  of  dough  left  on  my  biscuit  board. 
I  wonder  if  there  is  a  little  girl  in  this  kitchen  who 
would  like  to  make  some  little  biscuit?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Polly,  clapping  her  hands  with  de- 
light, for,  of  course,  she  knew  her  mamma  meant  her. 
"  I  'd  like  to  make  little  biscuit  all  by  myself." 

So   Mamma  tied  one  of  her  big  aprons   around 

26 


THIMBLE   BISCUIT. 


THIMBLE    BISCUIT  27 

Polly's  neck,  and  Polly  rolled  up  her  sleeves  just  as 
Mamma  did  when  she  cooked.  Then  she  was  ready 
to  begin  her  biscuit. 

"  May  I  sift  flour,  too?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Mamma.  "  You  must  always 
sift  flour  on  your  board  if  you  want  your  biscuit  to 
be  smooth  and  nice." 

So  Polly  sifted  the  flour  so  fine  and  white; 
And  kneaded  the  bit  of  dough  so  light; 
And  rolled  it  out  with  the  rolling  pin; 
And  — 

What  do  you  think?  Mamma's  biscuit  cutter  was 
larger  than  Polly's  piece  of  dough! 

"  I  think  you  will  have  to  borrow  Grandmother's 
thimble  for  a  biscuit  cutter,"  said  Mamma.  A  thim- 
ble biscuit  cutter!  Was  there  ever  anything  so  funny 
as  that?  Polly  laughed  about  it  all  the  way  upstairs 
to  Grandmother's  room;   but  when  she  told  Grand- 


28  A    STORY    GARDEN 

mother  what  she  wanted,  Grandmother  did  not  think 
it  was  strange  at  all. 

"  I  used  to  make  thimble  biscuit  when  I  was  a  little 
girl,"  she  said;  and  she  made  haste  to  get  the  thimble 
out  of  her  workbag  for  Polly. 

Grandmother's  thimble  was  made  of  shining  gold; 
and  oh,  what  a  fine  biscuit  cutter  it  made!  The  bis- 
cuit were  as  small  and  as  round  as  buttons,  and  Polly 
cut  enough  for  Grandmother,  and  Papa,  and  Mamma, 
and  Brother  Ned,  and  herself,  each  to  have  one  for 
supper  that  night. 

"  I  think  it  is  fun  to  make  thimble  biscuit,"  she  said 
as  she  handed  them  around  in  her  own  blue  saucer; 
and  if  you  don't  believe  she  was  right,  make  some 
yourself,  and  see. 


o 


THE    WEE    NEST 

NCE  upon  a  time  two  little  birds  built  a  wee 
little  nest  in  a  pink  rose  tree. 


(And  a  little  boy  saw  them;  but  he  did  not  tell, 
For  it  was  a  secret,  he  knew  very  well.) 

The  nest  was  round  and  cosy  and  soft;  and  when 
it  was  finished  the  mother-bird  put  eggs  in  it  —  the 
prettiest  eggs! 

(And  the  little  boy  peeped  in  the  nest  to  see, 
But  he  was  as  careful  as  he  could  be.) 

The  mother-bird  sat  on  the  nest  almost  all  the  time 

to  keep  the  eggs  safe  and  warm;   and  when  she  was 

tired  the  father-bird  took  her  place. 

29 


30  A    STORY    GARDEN 

(And  the  little  boy  watched  them,  and  wondered,  too, 
What  would  become  of  those  eggs  of  blue.) 

Day  after  day  the  mother-bird  sat  on  the  nest;  but 
one  morning  she  flew  away  singing  her  sweetest 
song.  The  father-bird  sang,  too,  for  something  won- 
derful had  happened.  The  pretty  blue  eggs  were 
broken,  but  in  their  place  were  —  what  do  you  think? 
Baby  birds,  cunning  and  weak  and  wee. 

(The  little  boy  counted  them,  one,  two,  three, 
Three  baby  birds  in  the  pink  rose  tree.) 

The  father  bird  and  the  mother  bird  were  busy  all 
day  getting  their  babies  something  to  eat. 

(And  the  little  boy  threw  them  some  crumbs  of  bread : 
"  Perhaps    they  '11    like    these   for   their   dinner,"    he 
said.) 


* 


u   a* 


7^— 


-     s 


it 

. . ..    ■ '  nr 


^-" 


r..LiLEY-v®uwe. 


THE  WEE  NEST. 


THE   WEE   NEST  31 

The  little  birds  grew  very  fast.  It  was  not  long 
before  they  were  ready  to  learn  to  fly.  Mother  bird 
and  father  bird  showed  them  how  to  spread  their 
wings,  and  hold  their  feet;  and  the  little  birds  tried 
to  do  just  as  they  were  told. 

(And  the  little  boy  laughed  to  see  them  try; 
They  were  so  funny,  and  fat  and  shy!) 

At  first  they  could  only  fly  from  the  rose  tree  to 
the  ground;  but  soon  their  wings  grew  strong,  and 
then  away  they  went  over  the  rose  tree,  over  the 
fence,  into  the  world. 

(And  the  little  boy  called  as  he  watched  them  fly, 
"  Dear  little  birdies,  good-by,  good-by.") 


THE    STRAWBERRY    SHORTCAKE 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  strawberry 
shortcake,  all  juicy  and  sweet  and  pleasant 
to  eat. 

A  little  boy  named  Ben  picked  the  berries  for  it. 
He  went  out  to  the  field  where  the  wild  strawberries 
grew,  all  by  himself;  and  when  he  came  home  he  had 
a  bucket  full  of  the  very  ripest  and  reddest  ones. 

A  little  girl,  Cousin  Pen,  who  was  visiting  on  the 
farm,  capped  the  berries,  and  that  was  not  nearly  so 
easy  to  do  as  it  sounds.  It  took  Cousin  Pen  every  bit 
of  a  half-hour  to  do  it,  and  —  do  you  believe  it?  — 
she  did  not  eat  a  single  berry.  She  saved  every  one 
of  them  for  the  strawberry  shortcake. 

Mamma  made  the  shortcake.  She  was  the  best 
cook!  If  I  should  try  to  tell  you  all  the  good  things 
she  could  make,  it  would  take  me  longer  than  it  took 

32 


THE  STRAWBERRY  SHORTCAKE. 


THE    STRAWBERRY    SHORTCAKE       33 

Cousin  Pen  to  cap  the  berries;  but  I  will  tell  you  this, 
if  there  was  one  thing  she  liked  to  make  better  than 
another  it  was  a  strawberry  shortcake. 

A  big  boy  almost  nine  years  old,  whom  every  one 
called  Brother  Fred,  cut  the  wood,  and  split  the  kin- 
dling, and  made  the  fire  that  baked  the  pastry  for  the 
strawberry  shortcake.  He  had  a  little  axe  of  his  own, 
and  the  way  he  could  make  chips  fly  was  simply  as- 
tonishing. Mamma  said  if  he  kept  on  as  he  had  be- 
gun he  would  be  as  much  help  as  his  papa  when  he 
grew  up. 

Papa  was  away  at  work  when  the  shortcake  was 
made,  and  when  he  came  home  to  dinner  nobody  said 
a  word  about  it.  They  did  not  even  tell  him  there 
was  a  dessert.  They  just  sat  down  and  ate  their  din- 
ner as  if  there  were  not  a  strawberry  shortcake  in  the 
world,  much  less  one  in  their  own  kitchen.  It  was  the 
funniest  thing!  Papa  did  not  know  anything  about 
it ;  but  by  and  by  he  said :  — 


34  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  Wild  strawberries  are  ripe.  Who  wants  to  go 
and  get  some  for  a  shortcake?  " 

And  then  how  the  children  did  laugh!  They 
laughed  and  laughed  until  Mamma  knew  they  could 
not  keep  the  secret  another  minute. 

"  Shut  your  eyes,  Papa,  and  don't  open  them  until 
we  call  '  ready,'  "  she  said,  and  she  slipped  out  into 
the  kitchen  and  got  the  strawberry  shortcake,  and 
put  it  on  the  table  right  in  front  of  him. 

"  Ready,"  called  Cousin  Pen  and  Brother  Fred  and 
little  Ben.    "  Ready." 

And  if  you  could  have  seen  how  surprised  Papa 
was  when  he  opened  his  eyes  and  spied  that  straw- 
berry shortcake,  you  would  have  laughed  as  much  as 
they  did. 


GOOD    NEWS 

ONE  morning  little  boy  Ben  came  home  from 
the  pasture,  where  he  had  taken  the  cows, 
with  so  much  to  tell  that  he  could  not  wait 
until  he  got  to  the  house  to  begin. 

"  The  wild  grapes  are  ripe,  the  persimmons  are 
sweet,  and  the  chestnuts  are  falling  out  of  the  burrs. 
One  dropped  on  my  hat  when  I  came  through  the 
wood;  and  I  saw  a  little  gray  squirrel  eating  nuts," 
he  called  to  Brother  Fred  as  soon  as  he  reached  the 
big  gate. 

"Hurrah!"  said  Brother  Fred.  "We  can  go  and 
get  some  this  very  afternoon;  "  and  when  he  went  to 
take  some  corn  to  the  mill  for  his  father,  he  stopped 
at  his  Cousin  Pen's  house  to  tell  her  about  it. 

"  The  wild  grapes   are  ripe,   the   persimmons   are 

sweet,  and  the  chestnuts  are  falling  out  of  the  burrs. 

35 


36  A    STORY    GARDEN 

We  are  going  to  get  some  this  afternoon.  Don't  you 
want  to  go,  too?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Cousin  Pen;  "  and  I  will  bring 
Mary  Sue  with  me." 

Mary  Sue  was  Cousin  Pen's  little  friend;  and  as 
soon  as  Brother  Fred  had  gone,  Cousin  Pen  ran  over 
to  her  house. 

"  Oh,  Mary  Sue !  "  she  cried.  "  What  do  you  think? 
The  wild  grapes  are  ripe,  the  persimmons  are  sweet, 
the  chestnuts  are  falling  out  of  the  burrs,  and  my 
Cousin  Fred  wants  us  to  go  to  the  woods  to  get  some 
this  very  day." 

"How  nice,"  said  Mary  Sue;  "  let 's  go  and  tell 
Dan." 

Dan  was  Mary  Sue's  neighbor.    He  lived  next  door 

to  her;    and  he  let  Cousin  Pen  and  her  ride  on  his 

'  pony  sometimes.     He  was  in  the  barn  feeding  the 

pony  when  the  girls  went  to  his  house;   and  they  ran 

through  the  yard  to  find  him. 


GOOD  NEWS. 


GOOD    NEWS  37 

"  The  wild  grapes  are  ripe,  and  the  persimmons  are 
sweet  —  "  cried  Cousin  Pen. 

"  And  the  chestnuts  are  falling  out  of  the  burrs. 
Don't  you  want  to  go  and  get  some?"  asked  Mary 
Sue. 

"  I  '11  go  if  Larry  Brown  will,"  said  Dan;  and  he 
climbed  up  on  a  ladder  and  put  his  head  out  of  the 
barn  window,  and  called  as  loud  as  he  could:  — 

"  Larry,  Larry,  don't  you  want  to  go  to  the  woods 
to  get  some  grapes  and  persimmons  and  chestnuts? 
I  '11  go  if  you  will." 

Larry  came  running  across  the  street  from  his 
house  in  a  hurry  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  He  was 
as  pleased  as  all  the  rest  had  been  to  hear  the  good 
news;  and  when  he  went  home  he  told  his  little  sister 
Nan  about  it. 

"  The  wild  grapes  are  ripe,  the  persimmons  are 
sweet,  the  chestnuts  are  falling  out  of  the  burrs,  and 
I  am  going  to  bring  you  some,"  he  said. 


38  A    STORY    GARDEN 

But  little  Nan  wanted  to  go,  too.  "  I  will  carry  her 
if  she  gets  tired,"  said  Larry;  so  after  they  had  eaten 
their  dinner,  Mother  gave  Nan  a  little  basket,  and 
she  started  out,  holding  Larry's  hand. 

The  others  were  ready  and  waiting;  and  away  they 
all  went  to  the  pleasant  wood. 

Brother  Fred,  and  little  Ben; 
Mary  Sue,  and  Cousin  Pen; 
Larry  Brown,  and  Neighbor  Dan; 
And  Larry's  little  sister  Nan. 

Oh,  what  a  good  time  they  had!  The  grapes  were 
ripe,  the  persimmons  were  sweet  as  sugar,  the  chest- 
nuts dropped  from  the  open  burrs,  and  up  in  a  tree, 
where  they  all  might  see,  sat  the  little  gray  squirrel! 


o 


THE    ROLL    OF    BREAD 

NCE  upon  a  time  a  little  boy  named  Ted  was 
very  hungry. 

I  wish  I  had  something  to  eat,"  he  said; 
And  his  mother  gave  him  a  roll  of  bread. 


She  had  bought  the  roll  that  very  morning  from 
the  busy  baker  who  kept  a  shop  at  the  corner. 

The  baker  had  flour  so  fine  and  so  white; 
Shakity  shake,  he  sifted  it  light, 
To  make  the  roll  of  nice  fresh  bread 
That  Mother  gave  to  little  boy  Ted. 

The  baker  got  the  flour  from  the  merry  miller 
whose  mill  stood  by  the  river  side. 

39 


40  A    STORY    GARDEN 

The  miller  was  merry,  and  so  was  the  mill; 
Clickety  clack,  it  never  was  still, 
As  it  ground  the  flour  so  fine  and  white 
For  the  busy  baker  who  sifted  it  light, 
With  a  shakity  shake,  to  make  the  bread 
That  Mother  gave  to  little  boy  Ted. 


The  flour  was  made  from  the  yellow  wheat  that  a 
friendly  farmer  brought  to  the  mill. 

"  Get  up !  get  up !  "  said  Farmer  Brown; 

As  clipety  clap,  he  rode  to  town 

To  take  the  wheat  to  the  miller's  mill; 

Clickety  clack,  it  never  was  still 

As  it  ground  the  wheat  into  flour  white 

For  the  busy  baker  who  sifted  it  light, 

With  a  shakity  shake,  to  make  the  bread 

That  Mother  gave  to  little  boy  Ted. 


THE  ROLL  OF  BREAD. 


THE   ROLL    OF   BREAD  41 

The  wheat  grew  in  the  fields  that  the  farmer  had 
plowed. 

He  plowed  the  fields,  and  he  sowed  the  grain; 

Then  pitter  patter,  the  gentle  rain 

Came  in  a  hurry  to  help  it  grow; 

And  the  sun  shone  down  with  its  golden  glow, 

To  ripen  the  grain  for  Farmer  Brown, 

Who,  clipety  clapety,  rode  to  town 

To  take  the  wheat  to  the  miller's  mill; 

Clickety  clack,  it  never  was  still 

As  it  ground  the  wheat  into  flour  white 

For  the  busy  baker  who  sifted  it  light, 

With  a  shakity  shake,  to  make  the  bread 

That  Mother  gave  to  little  boy  Ted. 


Ted  sat  down  on  the  kitchen  doorstep  to  eat  the 
roll. 


42 


A    STORY    GARDEN 


"  I  like  a  roll  of  nice  fresh  bread, 
Thank  you,  Mother,"  said  little  boy  Ted. 

Note.  —  The  little  child's  "  Thank  you,  Mother,"  is  the  beginning  of 
that  universal  gratitude  which  will  come  to  him  as  we  gradually  lead  him 
to  see  the  interdependence  of  all  life,  and  the  wonderful  goodness  of  God. 


THREE    GUESSES 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  grandmother 
who  went  to  spend  Thanksgiving  day  with 
her  children  and  grandchildren. 

She  had  three  grandchildren,  Isabel,  Jack,  and 
Jamie,  and  as  soon  as  she  had  taken  of!  her  cloak  and 
bonnet  she  sat  down  in  Mamma's  big  rocking-chair, 
and  called  them  to  her. 

"  I  have  a  present  for  each  one  of  you  in  my  brown 
bag,"  she  said,  "  but  before  I  give  them  to  you,  you 
must  guess  what  they  are." 

"  Oh,  Grandma!  "  said  Isabel  and  Jack  and  Jamie; 
and  they  watched  her  with  wondering  eyes  as  she 
opened  the  bag,  and  took  out  a  bundle. 

"  Jamie's  present  is  in  this  bundle,"  said  she.     "  It 

is  red  on  the  outside,  and  white  on  the  inside  and  in 

the  middle  there  is  something  brown." 

43 


44  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  I  believe  I  know  what  it  is,"  said  Jack. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Isabel;  but  Grandma  would  not  let 
them  guess. 

"  Jamie  must  guess  it  himself,"  she  said.  So  Jamie 
guessed  a  ball,  and  a  flower  and  a  piece  of  candy  and 
everything  else  he  could  think  of;  but  he  could  not 
guess  what  was  in  the  bundle  till  Grandma  let  him 
smell  it.    Then  he  knew. 

"  An  apple,  a  red  apple,"  he  cried;  and  when  he 
opened  the  bundle,  there,  sure  enough,  was  a  big, 
round  apple.  It  was  red  on  the  outside,  and  white  on 
the  inside;  and  when  he  had  eaten  it  he  found  in  the 
middle,  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven  brown 
seeds. 

The  next  bundle  was  for  Jack.  Grandma  shook  it 
up  and  down,  and  something  rattled  inside. 

"  Marbles,"  guessed  Jack;  but  Grandma  shook  her 
head. 

"  Listen  to  this,"  she  said:  — 


THREE  GUESSES. 


THREE    GUESSES  45 

"  Riddle  me,  riddle  me,  what  can  it  be, 
Hickory  t  dickory  fell  from  a  tree. 
Run  for  a  hammer,  and  crickety  crack 
Here  are  some  goodies  for  little  boy  Jack." 

"  Nuts,  nuts !  "  cried  Jack.  "  Hickory  nuts  from 
the  big  hickory  tree  that  grows  in  your  front  yard." 
And  he  was  right,  too. 

"  Now  it  is  my  turn,"  said  Isabel;  "  and  I  am  going 
to  try  to  guess  my  present  with  my  very  first  guess." 

But  when  Grandma  took  out  a  little  bundle 
wrapped  in  tissue  paper,  and  put  it  into  Isabel's 
hands,  she  was  as  puzzled  as  the  others  had  been. 

"  Be  very  careful,"  said  Grandma ;  "  for  if  you  break 
your  present  you  will  never  be  able  to  mend  it,  no 
matter  how  hard  you  try." 

"  May  I  ask  questions  about  it?  "  asked  Isabel. 

"  Yes,"  said  Grandma,  "  you  may  ask  three  ques- 
tions; but  when  I  have  answered  those  I  will  close 
my  lips,  and  will  not  answer  another  one." 


46  A    STORY    GARDEN 

Then  Isabel  asked  the  three  questions:  — 

"  What  color  is  my  present?  " 

"  White,"  said  Grandma. 

"  WThere  did  it  come  from?  " 

"  The  haystack,"  said  Grandma. 

"  Who  told  you  it  was  there?  " 

"  The  old  white  hen,"  said  Grandma;  and  she 
closed  her  lips  just  as  she  had  said  she  would;  but 
Isabel  knew  what  her  present  was  without  another 
word. 

"  I  knew  as  soon  as  you  said  it  came  from  the  hay- 
stack," she  said.    "  It  is  an  egg." 

And  so  it  was,  a  beautiful  fresh  white  egg.  Isabel 
had  it  for  her  breakfast  the  very  next  morning. 

"My!"  said  Grandma,  as  the  children  gathered 
around  her  to  kiss  her  and  thank  her.  "  What  good 
guessers  my  grandchildren  are!  " 


THE    SNOWBALL 

ONCE  upon  a  time  when  all  the  ground  was 
white  with  snow  and  all  the  roofs  were 
trimmed  with  icicles,  a  little  boy  went  out 
into  the  world  to  make  snowballs. 

His  mother  wrapped  him  up  so  nice  and  warm 
from  head  to  toe  that  you  could  scarcely  see  anything 
of  him  but  the  tip  of  his  nose;  and  when  the  snow- 
birds that  lived  in  his  own  front  yard  saw  him,  they 
did  not  know  him. 

They  flew  away  to  the  top  of  the  fence,  and  cocked 
their  heads  first  on  one  side,  and  then  on  the  other, 
as  if  they  were  thinking,  "  Who  can  this  be?  "  but  by 
and  by  they  found  out. 

"  Chirp,  chirp,"  they  said  to  each  other.  "  It  is 
only  the  little  boy  who  throws  us  crumbs  from  the 

47 


48  A    STORY    GARDEN 

window;"  and  they  flew  down  into  the  yard  again 
to  watch  him  make  snowballs. 

The  little  boy  knew  just  how  to  make  snowballs, 
and  how  to  throw  them,  too,  for  he  had  seen  his  big 
cousin  do  it.  First  he  took  a  handful  of  snow,  and 
then  he  packed  it  in  his  hands  like  this;  and  then 
hurrah!   he  threw  it  as  far  as  he  could  send  it. 

One  of  his  snowballs  went  into  the  corner  of  the 
yard  and  one  against  a  tree,  and  one  all  the  way  over 
the  fence  into  the  street.  It  was  great  fun  to  play  in 
the  snow,  and  the  little  boy  was  sorry  when  the  maid 
called  from  the  house  to  tell  him  it  was  time  to  come 
in. 

"  As  soon  as  I  make  one  more,"  he  answered;  and 
he  took  a  great  handful  of  snow,  and  made  such  a  big 
snowball  that  he  thought  he  must  take  it  into  the 
house  to  show  to  his  mother. 

Now  the  little  boy's  mother  had  gone  to  market 
while  he  was  playing  in  the  snow;   but  he  took  the 


—■-  6,.i»Lav-vi9u» 


THE  SNOWBALL. 


THE   SNOWBALL  49 

snowball  into  her  room,  and  put  it  on  the  hearth  so 
that  she  might  see  it  when  she  came  home. 

There  was  a  bright  fire  burning  in  the  grate,  and  it 
sounded  just  as  if  it  were  laughing,  with  its  cricklety 
cracklety,  cricklety  cracklety,  when  the  little  boy  put 
the  snowball  down  in  front  of  it. 

"Oh!  what  a  nice  big  fire,"  he  said;  and  he 
climbed  up  into  the  rocking  chair  close  beside  it  to 
wait  for  his  mother. 

"  Rockity  rock,  rockity  rock,"  said  the  rocking 
chair. 

"Cricklety,  cracklety,"  laughed  the  fire;  and  the 
little  boy  was  so  comfortable  and  so  warm  that  he 
went  fast  asleep  on  the  cushions. 

When  he  waked  up  his  mother  was  still  away  at 
the  market;  and  the  fire  was  still  laughing,  louder 
than  ever. 

"Cricklety  cracklety,  cricklety  cracklety;"  but 
when  he  looked  on  the  hearth  for  his  snowball  it  was 


50  A    STORY    GARDEN 

gone !  There  was  nothing  there  at  all  but  a  little  pool 
of  water. 

The  little  boy  looked  under  the  chair  and  under  the 
bed  and  under  the  dresser,  behind  the  door  and  in  all 
the  corners;  upstairs  and  downstairs,  high  and  low; 
but  he  could  not  find  the  snowball  anywhere. 

And  what  do  you  think  had  become  of  it?  The 
little  boy's  mother  guessed  as  soon  as  she  came  home; 
and  if  you  will  ask  your  mother  I  am  sure  she  will 
tell  you. 


SANTA    CLAUS 

A   WONDER    STORY   FOR   LITTLE    CHILDREN 

"  Wonder  is  the  basis  of  worship."  —  Carlyle. 

EVERY  year,  on  the  night  before  Christmas, 
Santa  Claus  comes. 

He  rides  in  a  sleigh  drawn  by  tiny  reindeer 
with  bells  on  their  harnesses. 

Tinkle,  tinkle,  ring  the  bells,  and  trit-trot,  go  the 
little  deer  to  carry  Santa  Claus  over  the  world. 

Santa  Claus  dresses  in  fur  from  his  head  to  his 
heels.  His  leggings  are  fur,  his  coat  is  fur,  and  he 
wears  a  fur  cap  pulled  down  over  his  ears,  for  the 
winds  of  the  winter  are  icy  cold. 

O-o-o-o,  sing  the  winds,  tink,  tinkle,  ring  the  bells, 
and  trit-trot,  go  the  little  deer  when  Santa  Claus  rides 
over  the  world. 

51 


52  A    STORY    GARDEN 

Santa  Claus's  beard  is  as  white  as  the  snow,  and 
his  cheeks  are  as  red  as  apples,  and  his  eyes  are  as 
bright  as  the  twinkling  stars  that  look  from  the  sky 
to  see  him  ride. 

Twinkle,  twinkle,  shine  the  stars,  O-o-o-o,  sing  the 
winds,  tink,  tinkle,  ring  the  bells,  and  trit-trot,  go  the 
little  deer  when  Santa  Claus  rides  over  the  world. 

Santa  Claus  is  old,  old  as  the  hills,  but  he  is  strong 
as  a  giant,  and  on  his  back  he  carries  a  pack,  and  the 
pack  is  full  of  toys.  He  has  dolls  and  drums,  and 
balls  and  tops,  wagons  and  sleds,  tea  sets  with  blue 
roses  painted  on  them,  and  horns  with  red  and  white 
stripes;  and  all  of  them  are  for  little  children.  As 
soon  as  the  children  are  asleep  on  Christmas  Eve, 
Santa  Claus  comes  to  fill  their  stockings  with  good 
things  and  give  them  beautiful  gifts.  He  knows  just 
what  the  children  want,  every  one  of  them,  and  he 
laughs  for  joy  as  he  rides  away. 

Ha!    ha!    laughs   Santa   Claus,   twinkle,   twinkle, 


SANTA  CLAUS. 


SANTA    CLAUS  53 

shine  the  stars,  O-o-o-o,  sing  the  winds,  tink,  tinkle, 
ring  the  bells,  and  trit-trot,  go  the  little  deer  when 
Santa  Claus  rides  over  the  world. 

The  children  never  see  him  come.  No,  indeed!  If 
he  hears  so  much  as  a  laugh  or  a  whisper  in  the  house 
he  stays  outside  till  all  is  quiet.  Why,  once  upon  a 
time  there  was  a  little  boy  who  did  not  want  to  go  to 
bed  on  the  night  before  Christmas.  "  I  shall  sit  up 
and  see  Santa  Claus,"  he  said.  He  hung  his  stocking 
by  the  mantel,  and  sat  in  his  mother's  big  rocking 
chair  and  waited,  and  watched,  and  waited;  but  all 
that  he  saw  was  a  little  gray  mouse,  though  he  stayed 
awake  till  everybody  but  his  mother  was  in  bed,  and 
he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  open  another  minute.  The 
last  thing  he  saw  as  he  went  to  sleep  was  the  stocking 
hanging  just  where  he  had  put  it,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing in  it;  but — do  you  believe  it?  —  when  he  waked 
up  next  morning  it  was  full  of  goodies  from  tip  to  toe; 
and  right  in  front  of  the  hearth  was  a  wagon  with  red 


54 


A    STORY    GARDEN 


wheels!  "Oh,  oh!  Santa  Claus  has  been  here,"  said 
the  little  boy;  and  he  clapped  his  hands,  for  he  was 
happy  as  could  be. 

All  the  world  is  happy  when  Santa  Claus  comes. 
Trit-trot,  go  the  little  deer,  tink,  tinkle,  ring  the  bells, 
O-o-o-o,  sing  the  winds,  twinkle,  twinkle,  shine  the 
stars,  and  ha!  ha!  laughs  Santa  Claus,  as  he  rides 
over  the  world  to  fill  the  children's  stockings,  and  to 
bring  beautiful  gifts. 


TEN    PENNIES 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  boy  who 
went  to  buy  some  nails  for  his  father,  and 
while  he  was  waiting  for  the  storekeeper  to 
wrap  them  up,  he  saw  in  the  window  a  little  red 
hatchet. 

"  If  I  had  a  little  red  hatchet,"  thought  the  little 
boy,  "  I  could  pound  nails  and  split  boards,  and  per- 
haps I  could  build  myself  a  little  house,"  and  he  asked 
the  storekeeper  the  price  of  the  hatchet. 

"  Just  as  many  pennies  as  you  have  ringers  on  your 
hands,  or  toes  on  your  feet,"  said  the  man. 

"  Oh!  "  said  the  little  boy,  and  as  soon  as  he  went 
out  of  the  store  he  counted  his  ringers.  "  One,  two, 
three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine,  ten."  He 
could  not  count  his  toes  then,  for  he  had  on  his  shoes 
and  stockings,  but  he  remembered  to  do  it  when  he 

55 


56  A    STORY    GARDEN 

undressed  that  night;  and  he  had  just  as  many  toes 
as  he  had  fingers.  The  little  red  hatchet  cost  ten  pen- 
nies. "  If  I  had  ten  pennies,"  he  said  to  his  mother, 
"  I  know  what  I  should  do.  I  should  buy  me  a  little 
red  hatchet." 

"  How  nice  that  would  be,"  said  his  mother;  "  and 
where  would  you  get  it?  " 

"From  the  storekeeper,"  said  he;  "and  I  could 
pound  nails  and  split  boards  and  build  houses.  I  wish 
I  had  one." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  his  mother;  "  but  now  you  must  go 
to  sleep,  for  to-morrow  is  your  birthday,  and  you  will 
want  to  be  up  with  the  sun." 

The  sun  was  up  before  the  little  boy,  though,  and 
so  was  his  mother.  She  was  sitting  on  the  bed  when 
he  waked  up,  and  on  the  table,  close  by  the  bed,  were 
—  what  do  you  think?    Ten  pennies,  all  in  a  row. 

"  Now  you  can  buy  the  little  red  hatchet,"  said  his 
mother,  giving  him  a  birthday  kiss. 


TEN  PENNIES. 


TEN    PENNIES  57 

"  Yes,  now  I  can  buy  the  little  red  hatchet,"  said 
the  little  boy;  and  he  could  scarcely  wait  to  dress  and 
eat  his  breakfast  before  he  started  out  to  the  store. 
The  ten  pennies  were  in  his  pocket  and  they  jingled 
merrily  as  the  little  boy  ran  down  the  road.  "  Ten  of 
us  are  here!  Ten  of  us  are  here!"  —  this  is  what 
they  seemed  to  say,  and  the  boy  laughed  to  hear  them. 

"  Perhaps  I'll  cut  down  a  tree  with  my  little  red 
hatchet,"  he  thought,  as  he  ran. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  he  reached  the 
town,  but  the  stores  were  open,  and  the  men  who  sold 
things  on  the  street  were  already  calling  their  wares. 
One  was  a  ragman.  "  Rags,  rags !  "  he  called.  An- 
other was  a  pieman.  He  had  his  good  things  in  a  cart 
that  he  pushed  before  him.  There  were  fresh  rasp- 
berry tarts  in  his  cart  that  day,  and  every  now  and 
then  he  called :  — 

"  Tarts,  tarts,  raspberry  tarts!  A  tart  for  a  penny 
and  a  penny  for  a  tart.    Tarts,  tarts,  raspberry  tarts! 


58  A    STORY    GARDEN 

A  tart  for  a  penny  and  a  penny  for  a  tart!"  The 
little  boy  stopped  to  listen.  "  Tarts,  tarts,  raspberry 
tarts!"  Oh,  how  delicious  they  looked  —  those 
penny  tarts  in  the  pieman's  cart! 

"Will  you  have  a  tart,  little  master?"  asked  the 
pieman. 

The  little  boy  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew 
it  out;  then  he  put  it  back  and  drew  it  out  again. 
This  time  a  penny  came  with  it.  "  Yes,  if  you  please," 
he  said  to  the  pieman.  "  I  want  a  raspberry  tart."  A 
nice,  sweet,  juicy  three-cornered  raspberry  tart!  The 
little  boy  had  eaten  every  crumb  of  it  when  he  came 
to  the  store  where  the  little  red  hatchet  lay  in  the 
window. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  the  hatchet  he  put  his  hand  into 
his  pocket  again  and  jingled  his  pennies.  "  One  of  us 
is  gone!  One  of  us  is  gone!"  said  the  pennies  as 
plainly  as  they  could ;  but  the  little  boy  sat  down  on 
the  edge  of  the  sidewalk  and  counted  them.     "  One, 


TEN    PENNIES  59 

two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine."  Then 
he  went  into  the  store.  The  man  who  had  told  him 
the  price  of  the  hatchet  was  not  there,  but  a  clerk 
came  to  wait  on  him. 

"Are  there  any  nine-penny  hatchets?"  asked  the 
little  boy. 

"No,"  said  the  clerk;  "all  the  little  hatchets  are 
ten  cents,  and  cheap  at  that.  Would  you  like  one  to- 
day? "  But  the  little  boy  shook  his  head  and  went  out 
of  the  store.  The  pennies  did  not  jingle  in  his  pocket, 
and  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  He  was  just  getting 
his  handkerchief  out  to  wipe  them  away  when  he  met 
an  old  woman. 

"  Why  are  you  crying,  little  boy?  "  asked  she;  and 
her  voice  was  so  kind  and  her  smile  so  pleasant  that 
the  little  boy  told  her  all  about  it. 

"Dear  me,"  said  she,  when  he  had  finished;  "I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  you  were  the  little  boy  for 
whom  I  am  looking." 


60  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  Were  you  looking  for  a  little  boy  six  years  old?  " 
asked  the  child. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  the  old  woman;  "and  I 
want  him  to  pick  up  a  pennyworth  of  chips  for  me." 

When  the  little  boy  heard  this  he  knew  that  he 
must  be  the  boy  she  wanted. 

"  I  am  six  years  old  to-day,"  he  said,  "  and  I  can 
pick  up  chips.  I  pick  them  up  for  my  mother,  and 
when  I  get  my  little  red  hatchet  I  am  going  to  split 
kindling  for  her,  too." 

Then  the  old  woman  led  the  way  to  her  house  and 
gave  the  little  boy  a  basket  and  showed  him  where 
the  woodpile  was.  The  wood  chopper  had  been  there 
with  his  sharp  axe,  and  the  chips  were  strewn  about 
the  yard.  The  little  boy  set  to  work  with  a  will,  and 
when  he  had  filled  the  basket  so  full  that  not  another 
chip  would  stay  in,  he  took  it  to  the  old  woman. 

"  Is  this  a  pennyworth  of  chips?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,    and    good    measure,"    answered    the    old 


TEN    PENNIES  61 

woman,  and  she  took  a  bright  new  penny  out  of  her 
bag  and  gave  it  to  the  little  boy.  "  Good-by,  and 
good  fortune,"  she  said;  and  the  little  boy  wished 
her  the  same  before  he  ran  through  the  gate  toward 
the  town. 

Oh,  how  swiftly  his  feet  pattered  down  the  road, 
and,  oh,  how  merrily  the  pennies  jingled  in  his 
pocket !  "  Ten  of  us  again !  Ten  of  us  again !  "  This 
is  what  they  seemed  to  say  now,  and  the  little  boy 
laughed  to  hear  them  as  he  ran  past  the  ragman  with 
his  bag,  past  the  pieman  with  his  tarts,  straight  to 
the  store  where  the  little  red  hatchet  still  lay  in  the 
window. 

"  If  you  please,  I  want  a  little  red  hatchet,"  he  said; 
and  he  counted  his  pennies  out  on  the  counter,  ten  of 
them  in  a  row. 

"  Just  as  many  pennies  as  you  have  fingers  on  your 
hands,  or  toes  on  your  feet,"  said  the  man,  who  had 
come  in  to  the  store  again ;   and  he  wrapped  the  little 


62 


A    STORY    GARDEN 


red  hatchet  in  a  piece  of  brown  paper  and  gave  it  to 
the  child. 

It  was  a  good  little  hatchet,  and  the  little  boy 
pounded  nails  and  split  boards  and  cut  his  mother's 
kindling  with  it;  but  whether  he  ever  built  a  house 
or  cut  down  a  tree  I  cannot  tell  you,  for  I  do  not  know 
myself. 


THE    LOST    DOLL 

THERE  was  once  upon  a  time  a  little  girl  who 
had    a    china    doll    named    Jennie    Bluebell. 
Jennie  Bluebell  had  black  hair,  and  blue  eyes, 
and  rosy  cheeks,  and  a  smiling  mouth;    and  on  her 
feet  were  painted  gilt  slippers  that  shone  like  gold. 

The  little  girl  loved  her  more  than  she  had  ever 
loved  any  other  doll  and  wherever  she  went  she 
wanted  Jennie  Bluebell  to  go  too.  She  took  her  to 
walk  in  the  lane,  and  to  ride  in  the  carriage,  and  one 
day  she  carried  her  to  a  meadow  where  she  and  her 
little  brother  went  to  pick  golden-rod.  She  held  her 
in  her  arms  all  the  way  just  as  Mother  held  the  baby 
and  when  she  got  to  the  meadow  she  laid  her  down  to 
rest  in  the  long  meadow  grass  while  she  picked  the 
flowers.    Meadow  grass  makes  a  beautiful  soft  bed  for 

a  doll. 

63 


64  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  I  will  come  back  for  you  by  and  by,"  she  said 
as  she  left  her  there;  but  when  it  was  time  to  go 
home  all  the  green  grass  looked  alike  to  the  little  girl 
and  she  could  not  tell  where  the  dear  doll  lay. 

"  I  put  her  right  here,  or  at  least  I  think  I  did.  Oh, 
where  can  she  be?"  she  cried,  as  she  hurried  from 
place  to  place  parting  the  grasses  with  her  hands  and 
peeping  anxiously  in.  Her  little  brother  searched, 
too,  but  though  they  both  looked  till  their  mother 
called  to  ask  why  they  were  staying  so  long,  they  had 
to  go  home  at  last  without  the  doll. 

"  Perhaps  the  fairies  have  taken  her  away,"  said 
the  little  girl,  who  was  almost  crying. 

"  Or  a  rabbit,"  said  the  little  boy;  "Father  saw 
one  in  the  field  yesterday." 

But  neither  fairies  nor  rabbits  had  touched  Jennie 
Bluebell.  The  tall  grasses  had  swayed  in  the  breezes 
this  way  and  that  way  till  she  was  hidden  from  sight 
but  she  had  not  moved  from  the  spot  where  the  little 


THE  LOST  DOLL. 


THE    LOST    DOLL  65 

girl  had  put  her.  All  through  the  sunny  afternoon 
she  lay  there  hoping  that  some  one  would  find  her, 
and  when  it  began  to  grow  dark  and  nobody  had 
come  she  felt  very  lonely  indeed. 

"  I  shall  not  close  my  eyes  all  night,"  she  said;  and 
she  did  not.  When  the  rooster  over  in  the  barnyard 
crowed  for  morning,  her  eyes  were  as  wide  open  as 
they  had  been  when  the  first  star  shone  the  evening 
before. 

Almost  as  soon  as  it  was  light  again  she  heard  a 
noise  in  the  meadow.  Swish,  swash!  Swish,  swash! 
it  sounded.  The  children's  father  was  cutting  his 
grass  with  a  sharp-bladed  scythe,  but  the  doll  did  not 
know  this  and  when  the  grass  around  her  fell  down  in 
a  heap  upon  her  she  thought  that  the  end  of  every- 
thing had  come. 

"What  in  the  world  has  happened?"  she  asked  a 
grasshopper  who  had  been  caught  in  the  fall. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  should  like  to  know  myself," 


66  A    STORY    GARDEN 

he  answered;  and  he  struggled  up  to  the  sunshine 
and  never  came  back. 

The  children  did  not  come  to  look  again  for  the 
doll  that  day,  or  the  next,  and  she  gave  up  all  hope  of 
being  found. 

"  They  have  gone  to  visit  their  grandparents,"  she 
said.  "  I  heard  them  talking  about  it.  They  have  for- 
gotten me,  and  I  shall  never  see  them  again." 

That  very  afternoon,  however,  they  came  to  the 
meadow  to  help  their  father  rake  the  grass,  which  the 
sun  by  that  time  had  dried  into  sweet-smelling  hay. 
They  had  been  on  a  visit,  sure  enough,  and  as  they 
worked  they  talked  of  the  things  they  had  done  while 
they  were  away  from  home.  The  doll  could  hear 
every  word  they  said. 

"  I  rode  Grandpa's  horse  to  water  two  times  by 
myself,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"  I  fed  Grandma's  chickens  every  day  with  corn," 
said  the  little  girl. 


THE   LOST    DOLL 


67 


"  Grandpa  plants  corn  in  his  fields,"  said  the  little 
boy.     "  You  don't  have  to  rake  corn." 

"I  like  to  rake  hay,"  said  the  little  girl;  "and 
Mamma  says  that  I  may  find  Jennie  Bluebell  when  the 
field  is  cleared." 

Oh!  how  the  china  doll's  heart  leaped  for  joy  when 
she  heard  that;  and  —  do  you  believe  it?  —  the  very 
next  minute  the  hay  that  covered  her  was  raked  aside 
and  there  she  lay  right  before  the  little  girl's  eyes! 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh!  "  the  little  girl  cried;  "  here  she  is,  my 
precious  doll.    I  was  never  so  glad  in  all  my  life." 

And  Jennie  Bluebell  was  glad  too,  though  she  did 
not  say  a  word.    She  only  smiled. 


LITTLE    DOG   AND    BIG   DOG 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  were  two  dogs  who 
were  great  friends.  One  of  them  was  small 
and  one  was  large,  and  they  were  called 
Little  Dog  and  Big  Dog  all  the  days  of  their  lives, 
and  had  no  other  names. 

Little  Dog  barked  at  everything  he  saw.  He 
barked  at  the  cat  and  he  barked  at  the  kittens;  he 
barked  at  the  cow  and  he  barked  at  the  calf;  he 
barked  at  his  own  shadow;  and  he  even  barked  at  the 
moon  in  the  sky  with  a  "  Bow-wow-wow !  "  and  a 
"  Bow-wow-wow !  " 

Big  Dog  had  a  very  loud  bark,  "  Bow-wow!  Bow- 
wow!" but  he  barked  only  when  he  had  something 
to  say.    And  everybody  listened  to  him. 

Now  one  day  as  the  two  dogs  sat  together  in  the 
sunshine,  Big  Dog  said  to  Little  Dog:  — 


LITTLE    DOG   AND    BIG    DOG  69 

"  Come,  let  us  go  to  see  our  friend,  the  king." 

Little  Dog  thought  this  was  a  splendid  plan,  and 
they  started  at  once. 

Big  Dog  walked  along  the  road  with  his  tail  curled 
over  his  back,  and  his  head  held  high.  "  There  is  no 
need  of  haste,"  he  said,  but  Little  Dog  thought  there 
must  be. 

"  I  shall  get  there  first,"  he  called,  as  he  scampered 
ahead,  but  presently  he  came  back  as  fast  as  he  had 
gone. 

"  Oh,  Big  Dog,  Big  Dog,"  he  said,  "  we  cannot  go 
to  see  the  king." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Big  Dog.  "Has  he  gone 
away  from  home?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that,"  answered  Little  Dog, 
who  was  almost  out  of  breath,  "  but  a  little  farther  on 
there  is  a  great  river,  and  we  can  never  get  across." 

But  Big  Dog  would  not  turn  back.  "  I  must  see 
this  great  river,"  he  said,  and  he  walked  on  as  quietly 


70  A    STORY    GARDEN 

as  before.  Little  Dog  followed  him,  and  when  they 
came  to  the  river  Big  Dog  jumped  in,  splish!  splash! 
and  began  to  swim. 

"  Wait,  wait,"  cried  Little  Dog,  but  Big  Dog  only 
answered,  "  Don't  be  afraid." 

So  in  jumped  Little  Dog,  splish !  splash !  too,  for  he 
did  not  want  to  be  left  behind.  He  was  terribly 
frightened,  but  he  paddled  himself  along  with  his  four 
feet  just  as  he  saw  Big  Dog  doing,  and  when  he  was 
safe  across  the  river,  which  was  not  half  so  wide  as 
he  had  thought,  he  barked  at  it  as  if  he  had  never 
been  afraid  at  all. 

"  Bow-wow- wow-wow!  You  cannot  keep  us  from 
the  king,"  he  said,  and  he  was  off  and  away  before 
Big  Dog  had  shaken  the  water  from  his  coat.  But  in 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  Big  Dog  spied  him 
running  back  with  his  tail  hanging  down  and  his  ears 
drooping. 

"  Oh,  Big  Dog,  Big  Dog!  "  he  cried.    "  We  cannot 


LITTLE    DOG   AND    BIG    DOG  71 

go  to  see  the  king,  for  in  the  wood  yonder  there  is  a 
bear,  and  she  will  eat  us  both  for  her  supper.  I  heard 
her  say  so  myself." 

Then  Big  Dog  made  haste  to  the  wood,  barking 
loudly:  — 

"Bow-wow!  Bow-wow!  I  am  not  afraid!  I  am 
not  afraid !  "  and  when  the  bear  heard  him  she  ran  to 
her  home  as  fast  as  she  could. 

"  I  can  eat  honey  for  my  supper,"  she  said;  and  the 
two  dogs  saw  no  more  of  her. 

Now  by  this  time  Little  Dog  had  run  so  fast  and 
barked  so  much  that  he  was  tired.  "  I  do  not  want  to 
go  to  see  the  king,"  he  said;  and  he  lay  down  in  the 
road  and  put  his  head  between  his  two  front  paws. 

But  Big  Dog  said,  "  I  smell  a  bone,"  and  Little 
Dog  jumped  up  in  a  hurry  again.  Sniff!  sniff!  — 
where  could  it  be?  The  two  dogs  put  their  noses 
close  to  the  ground  and  followed  the  scent  till  they 
came  to  the  turn  of  the  road;  and  there  sat  a  charcoal 


72  A    STORY    GARDEN 

burner  eating  his  supper  of  bread  and  mutton  chops 
by  his  fire. 

Little  Dog  wanted  to  run  up  and  beg  for  some- 
thing, but  Big  Dog  would  not  go  with  him.  "  It  is 
more  polite  to  wait,"  he  said;  and  he  sat  down  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road.  Little  Dog  sat  down  beside 
him,  and  they  waited  and  waited;  but  at  last  the  man 
finished  his  chops  and  threw  the  bones  to  the  dogs, 
which  was  just  what  Big  Dog  had  hoped  he  would 
do.    Oh,  how  good  they  tasted ! 

"Where  shall  we  sleep  to-night?"  asked  Little 
Dog,  when  he  had  eaten  his  share. 

"  Oh,  never  fear,"  answered  Big  Dog,  "  we  will  find 
a  place;  "  and  when  they  had  gone  on  their  way  they 
very  soon  came  to  a  house  in  the  wood.  The  door 
was  open,  and  Big  Dog  put  his  head  inside  to  see  if 
anybody  was  at  home.  Nobody  lived  there,  however, 
but  a  barn  swallow,  so  the  dogs  went  in  and  lay  down 
to  rest  on  some  hay  in  the  corner. 


LITTLE  DOG  AND  BIG  DOG. 


LITTLE    DOG   AND    BIG    DOG  73 

"  We  must  be  off  early,"  said  Big  Dog;  but  when 
they  woke  up  next  morning  the  door  was  fastened 
tight;  for  the  wind  had  blown  by  in  the  night  and 
slammed  it  into  its  place.  When  Big  Dog  saw  this 
he  was  in  great  distress. 

"  Oh,  Little  Dog!  Little  Dog!  "  he  cried.  "  I  fear 
we  can  never  go  to  see  the  king,  for  the  door  is  closed, 
and  there  is  no  one  to  open  it." 

"  But  we  can  go  through  the  hole  under  the  door," 
answered  Little  Dog;  and  when  Big  Dog  looked, 
there,  sure  enough,  at  the  bottom  of  the  door,  where 
a  board  had  rotted  away,  was  a  hole  just  large  enough 
for  a  little  dog  to  creep  through.  Little  Dog  put  his 
nose  through  and  his  head  through,  and  then  wriggle, 
wriggle,  he  was  out  and  barking  merrily. 

"  Come  on,  Big  Dog,"  he  called;  but  Big  Dog  could 
not  go.  He  could  not  even  get  his  head  through  the 
hole. 

"  You  must  go  on  alone,"  he  said  to  Little  Dog, 


74  .  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  and  when  you  have  come  to  the  king's  palace,  and 
have  told  him  about  me,  perhaps  he  will  send  me  aid." 

But  Little  Dog  did  not  wait  until  he  reached  the 
king's  palace  to  ask  for  help.  "  Bow-wow-wow-wow! 
Listen  to  me,"  he  barked,  as  he  ran  down  the  road. 
"  Big  Dog,  my  friend,  is  shut  up  in  the  house  in  the 
wood,  and  cannot  go  to  see  the  king.  Bow-wow- 
wow-wow  !  " 

At  first  there  were  only  birds  to  hear  him,  but  pres- 
ently he  saw  a  woodcutter  with  an  axe  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Bow-wow-wow-wow!  Listen  to  me,"  barked 
Little  Dog.  "  Big  Dog,  my  friend,  is  shut  up  in  the 
house  in  the  wood  and  cannot  go  to  see  the  king. 
Bow-wow-wow-wow!"  But  the  woodcutter  did  not 
understand  a  word  he  said. 

"Whew!  whew!"  he  whistled,  which  meant, 
"  Come,  little  doggie,  follow  me;  "  but  Little  Dog  had 
no  time  to  play. 


LITTLE    DOG    AND    BIG    DOG  75 

He  hurried  on  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  by  and  by 
he  met  the  woodcutter's  wife  going  to  town  with  a 
basket  of  eggs  on  her  arm.  "  Bow-wow- wow-wow ! 
Listen  to  me.  Big  Dog,  my  friend,  is  shut  up  in  the 
house  in  the  wood,  and  cannot  go  to  see  the  king," 
barked  Little  Dog.  But  the  woodcutter's  wife  did 
not  understand  a  word  he  said. 

"  You  noisy  little  dog,"  she  cried.  "  You  have 
startled  me  so  that  it  is  a  wonder  every  egg  in  my 
basket  is  not  broken,"  and  she  shook  her  skirts  to 
get  rid  of  him. 

"  Nobody  will  listen  to  me,"  thought  Little  Dog, 
as  he  scampered  on,  but  just  then  he  spied  a  little  boy 
with  a  bundle  of  sticks  on  his  back.  He  was  the  wood- 
cutter's little  boy;  and  —  do  you  believe  it?' — he 
understood  every  word  that  Little  Dog  said,  and 
followed  him  to  the  house. 

When  they  drew  near  they  heard  Big  Dog  calling 
for  help :  — 


76  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"Bow-wow!  Bow-wow!  Come  and  let  me  out. 
Come  and  let  me  out." 

"Bow-wow!  we  are  coming,"  answered  Little 
Dog. 

"  We  are  coming,"  said  the  woodcutter's  little  boy; 
and  the  very  next  minute  Big  Dog  was  free. 

The  king's  palace  was  not  far  from  the  wood,  and 
the  two  dogs  were  soon  at  their  journey's  end.  The 
king  was  so  pleased  to  see  them  that  he  made  a  great 
feast  for  them,  and  invited  the  woodcutter's  little  boy 
because  he  was  their  friend. 

After  the  feast  Big  Dog  and  Little  Dog  were  sent 
home  in  the  king's  own  carriage;  and  all  the  rest  of 
their  lives  they  were  even  better  friends  than  before 
they  went  traveling  together. 


THE    LITTLE    KING'S    RABBITS 

ONE  morning  when  the  little  king  waked  up, 
all  of  his  pet  rabbits  were  gone,  and  nobody, 
not  even  the  owl  who  had  been  awake  all 
night,  knew  anything  about  them.  They  were  white 
rabbits  with  pink  eyes  and  pink  ears,  and  you  can  just 
imagine  how  the  little  king  felt  when  he  heard  they 
were  lost. 

"  Find  my  white  rabbits  and  I  will  give  you  what- 
ever you  ask  of  me,  even  though  it  should  be  the 
crown  from  my  head,"  he  said  to  everybody  who 
came  to  see  him;  and,  of  course,  everybody  started 
out  at  once  to  look  for  the  rabbits. 

The  princes  and  princesses,  the  dukes  and  the  duch- 
esses, the  counts  and  the  countesses,  and  all  the  other 
fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  king's  court  went  in 
carriages  to  the  city  to  look  for  the  rabbits,  and  pres- 

77 


78  A    STORY    GARDEN 

ently  they  came  back  in  great  glee.  They  had  not 
found  the  rabbits,  but  they  had  bought  some  made  of 
candy  at  a  confectioner's  shop,  and  they  were  very 
much  pleased  with  themselves. 

"  These  are  so  cunning  and  sweet  —  much  sweeter 
than  real  rabbits,"  they  said,  but  the  little  king  did 
not  think  so. 

"  They  are  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be  eaten,"  he  said, 
and  he  had  them  carried  away  to  the  pantry. 

The  little  king's  soldiers  felt  very  certain  that  the 
king  in  the  next  country  had  taken  away  the  rabbits, 
so  they  marched  over  the  hill  to  bring  them  back, 
beating  their  drums  with  a  bum,  bum,  bum.  Their 
uniforms  were  as  red  as  a  cock's  comb,  and  they  were 
as  brave  as  lions,  but  they  had  to  come  home  without 
the  white  rabbits.  The  king  of  the  next  country  had 
never  so  much  as  seen  the  tips  of  their  ears. 

"  King  indeed,"  said  the  hunters.  "  The  foxes  have 
carried  the  rabbits  away  to  their  dens,  and  we  will  go 


THE    LITTLE    KING'S    RABBITS  79 

and  bring  them  back  or  know  the  reason  why,"  and 
they  hastened  to  the  woods  with  their  guns.  Bang, 
bang  —  they,  too,  made  a  great  noise,  but  it  did  no 
good.  The  king's  rabbits  were  nowhere  to  be 
found. 

The  servants  all  went  to  the  park.  "  If  the  rabbits 
are  anywhere  they  are  here,"  they  said,  and  they  told 
the  park  policeman  about  them. 

"  White  rabbits  with  pink  eyes  and  pink  ears  are 
not  allowed  in  the  park,"  he  said  indignantly,  so  the 
servants  had  to  go  home  without  the  rabbits,  as  all 
the  rest  had  done. 

The  king's  gardener  went  to  his  garden  in  a  hurry. 
"  I  '11  not  have  a  leaf  left,"  he  said  to  himself.  But 
when  he  got  to  the  garden  every  leaf  was  in  place. 
The  pink  roses  were  just  opening  their  buds  in  the 
sunshine,  and  the  white  pinks  were  nodding  in  the 
breezes,  but  not  a  sign  of  the  white  rabbits  with  pink 
eyes  and  pink  ears  did  the  gardener  see. 


80  A    STORY    GARDEN 

The  gardener's  little  daughter  Peggy  went  to  the 
rabbit  hutch  first  of  all.  She  knew  that  the  rabbits 
were  not  there,  of  course,  but  she  had  to  begin  her 
search  somewhere.  Nobody,  not  even  the  little  king 
himself,  loved  the  white  rabbits  more  than  Peggy  did. 
She  knew  their  names,  and  how  old  they  were,  and 
what  they  liked  best  to  eat.  Every  morning  as  soon 
as  she  had  eaten  her  own  breakfast  she  came  up  from 
the  little  cottage  where  she  lived  with  her  mother  and 
father,  to  bring  them  lettuce  and  cabbage  leaves.  It 
made  her  very  sad  to  see  the  empty  hutch,  and  two 
bright  tears  shone  in  her  eyes. 

Before  they  had  time  to  roll  down  her  cheeks 
Peggy  saw  something  that  surprised  her  very  much. 
It  was  a  hole  in  the  corner  of  the  fence  that  was  built 
around  the  rabbit  hutch.  As  soon  as  she  saw  it  she 
dried  her  eyes,  and  ran  through  the  gate  into  the  road 
behind  the  barnyard.  The  rabbits  were  not  there, 
but  in  the  dust  that  lay  thick  and  white  along  the 


THE  LITTLE  KING'S  KAUBITS. 


THE   LITTLE    KING'S    RABBITS  81 

road  were  ever  so  many  queer  little  marks  that  looked 
like  the  prints  of  rabbit  feet. 

"  Oh,  so  this  is  the  way  they  went,"  said  Peggy, 
and  she  followed  the  tracks  as  long  as  she  could  see 
them. 

By  and  by  she  came  to  a  cool  green  lane  that  led 
from  one  side  of  the  road.  That  was  the  very  place 
for  rabbits,  Peggy  thought. 

"  Bunny,  bunny,  bunny,"  she  called  as  she  peeped 
in.  Not  a  rabbit  or  a  rabbit  track  was  to  be  seen, 
however,  and  Peggy  was  hurrying  away  when  she 
spied  by  the  path  a  bunch  of  green  clover  all  tattered 
and  torn,  just  as  if  —  just  as  if  — 

"  Rabbit  teeth  have  been  nibbling  these  leaves," 
cried  Peggy  joyfully,  and  she  hastened  down  the  lane 
expecting  to  see  the  rabbits  at  every  turn.  But  she 
did  not  find  them,  though  she  looked  behind  every 
tree,  and  into  every  nook  and  corner  from  one  end  of 
the  lane  to  the  other. 


82  A    STORY    GARDEN 

There  were  two  roads  at  the  other  end  of  the  lane. 
One  led  over  the  hill  to  the  next  country.  There  were 
many  footprints  upon  it,  but  they  were  only  the  ones 
the  soldiers  had  left  when  they  marched  away  to  find 
the  white  rabbits.  The  other  road  ran  by  the  woods 
where  the  hunters  had  hurried.  Grass  grew  upon  it, 
and  flowers  nodded  over  it,  but  there  was  not  a  single 
nibbled  leaf  to  show  that  the  rabbits  had  been  there. 

"Dear  me,  which  way  shall  I  go?"  said  Peggy; 
but  she  had  scarcely  spoken  when  a  breeze  blew  by. 
It  had  been  blowing  over  somebody's  garden.  Peggy 
knew  that  as  soon  as  it  passed. 

"  I  smell  cabbages,"  she  cried,  and  away  she  ran  by 
the  woods,  and  through  the  flowers,  till  she  came  to 
an  old  woman's  cabbage  patch.  And  there,  eating 
cabbage  leaves  to  their  hearts'  content,  sat  the  little 
king's  rabbits!  Peggy  ran  home  as  fast  as  she  had 
come;  and  great  was  the  rejoicing  in  the  king's 
palace  when  she  had  told  her  news. 


THE   LITTLE    KING'S    RABBITS  83 

"  I  will  give  you  whatever  you  ask,  even  should  it 
be  the  crown  from  my  head,"  the  little  king  said  to 
her;  and  all  the  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  crowded 
around  to  hear  what  she  would  say. 

"  A  carriage  and  horses,"  whispered  one. 

"  A  bag  of  gold,"  said  another. 

"  A  house  and  land,"  cried  a  third,  for  they  all 
wanted  to  help  her  choose. 

But  Peggy  knew  what  she  wanted  without  any- 
body's help. 

"  If  you  please,  your  majesty,"  she  said,  making 
the  king  a  curtsey,  "  I  should  like  a  white  rabbit  for 
my  own." 

And  —  do  you  believe  it  ?  —  the  little  king  gave  her 
two! 


THE    SNOWMAN 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  man  who  was 
made  of  snow.  He  had  sticks  for  his  arms, 
and  coals  for  his  eyes;  his  nose  was  made 
of  an  icicle,  and  his  mouth  was  a  bit  of  bent  twig, 
which  turned  up  at  the  ends,  so  he  looked  as  if  he 
were  smiling. 

"  He  's  the  finest  snowman  we  've  ever  seen,"  said 
the  children  who  made  him;  and  they  joined  hands 
and  danced  around  him  till  their  mother  called  them 
in  to  supper. 

"  Good-by,"  they  called  to  him  as  they  climbed  the 
fence  that  divided  the  field  from  the  yard.  "  Good-by. 
We  will  bring  you  a  hat  to-morrow." 

There  were  a  half  dozen  of  the  children,  and  the 

youngest  of  them  was  a  little  boy  who  had  never 

helped  to  make  a  snowman  before.     He  thought  of 

84 


THE    SNOWMAN  85 

this  one  all  the  time  he  was  eating  his  supper,  and 
even  after  he  had  gone  to  bed  that  night.  He  knew 
just  how  the  snowman  looked  with  his  smiling  mouth 
and  stick  arms. 

"  I  wish  we  had  taken  him  a  hat  to-night,"  he 
thought,  as  his  eyelids  dropped  down  like  two  little 
curtains  over  his  eyes. 

"Archoo!  archoo!  I  wish  that  you  had,"  said 
something  outside  the  window;  and  —  do  you  be- 
lieve it?  —  it  was  the  snowman  sneezing  as  hard  as 
he  could! 

"  This  is  what  comes  of  standing  out  in  the  cold 
bareheaded,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  sneeze  my  head  off  — 
I  know  I  shall.    Archoo!   archoo!   archoo!" 

"  Dear  me!  "  said  the  little  boy.  "  I  will  get  you  a 
hat  but  it  will  have  to  be  my  sailor,  for  I  wear  my 
new  hat  to  church  and  to  parties,  and  my  everyday 
cap  will  not  fit  you,  I  am  afraid,  —  we  made  your 
head  so  large." 


86  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"  The  sailor  will  do  nicely,"  said  the  snowman,  "  if 
I  may  have  it  at  once.  As  it  is,  I  am  catching  my 
death  of  cold.     Archoo!    archoo!    archoo!" 

When  the  little  boy  heard  this,  he  jumped  out  of 
bed  and  ran  to  the  cupboard  and  got  the  sailor  hat 
from  the  top  shelf  and  gave  it  to  the  snowman. 

"  How  do  I  look  in  it?  "  he  asked  as  soon  as  he  had 
put  it  on. 

"  Well  enough,"  answered  the  moon,  who  had 
been  watching  all  the  while;  "but  you  will  have 
to  make  haste  if  you  want  to  go  anywhere  before 
daylight." 

"  Don't  you  hear  what  the  moon  is  saying?  "  said 
the  snowman  to  the  little  boy.  "  What  are  you  wait- 
ing for?  " 

"  Am  I  going  anywhere?  "  asked  the  child. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  the  snowman.  "  Why 
should  n't  you  go?  " 

The  little  boy  could  not  think  of  an  answer  to  this; 


THE  SNOWMAN. 


THE    SNOWMAN  87 

and  the  next  thing  he  knew  he  was  out  of  the  window 
with  the  snowman. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  "  asked  he. 

"  Why,"  said  the  snowman  hurrying  away  into  the 
street,  "  I  have  never  thought  of  that,  but  since  you 
speak  of  it  I  think  we  had  better  go  to  the  Winter 
King's  palace,  and  ask  him  if  he  cannot  do  something 
to  keep  the  sun  from  shining  to-morrow." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  little  boy,  for  his  mother  had  prom- 
ised that  he  might  go  to  his  grandmother's  if  the  day 
was  fine.  He  had  no  time  to  say  anything  about  this, 
however,  for  just  then  the  snowman  cried  out :  — 

"  I  have  dropped  one  of  my  eyes,  and  I  cannot  go 
on  without  it." 

"Dear  me,  dear  me!"  said  the  little  boy.  "How 
shall  we  ever  find  it?  " 

But  while  he  was  talking,  a  little  dog  that  he  knew 
very  well  came  by.  His  name  was  Fido,  and  he  could 
find  anything  that  was  lost.    He  had  found  the  little 


88  A    STORY    GARDEN 

ball  when  it  rolled  under  the  house,  and  his  master's 
overshoes  when  everybody  else  had  failed;  and  when 
he  heard  of  the  lost  eye  he  started  back  at  once  to  look 
for  it. 

"  Don't  worry,"  said  the  little  boy,  "  Fido  will  find 
it;  "  and  sure  enough,  in  the  twinkle  of  a  star  he  was 
back  with  the  coal  in  his  mouth!  The  little  boy  put 
it  in  its  place  as  quickly  as  he  could,  for  the  snowman 
seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry. 

"  Did  n't  you  see  that  we  were  at  a  baker's  shop?  " 
he  said.  "  I  know  I  must  have  been  near  the  oven, 
too,  for  one  of  my  ears  is  almost  melted  off." 

"  Why,  you  have  n't  any  ears!  "  said  the  little  boy. 
"  We  did  not  know  how  to  make  them." 

"No  ears?"  cried  the  snowman.  "Then  how  do 
I  hear  what  you  say?  But  there  now,  you  are  only 
a  little  boy,  and  cannot  know  everything.  Besides, 
here  we  are  at  the  palace,  and  you  must  be  quiet." 

The  little  boy  had  thought  he  was   passing  the 


THE   SNOWMAN  89 

schoolhouse  where  his  big"  brothers  and  sisters  went 
to  school,  but  when  he  went  inside  he  saw  that  he 
was  wrong,  and  the  snowman  was  right,  for  in  the 
place  where  the  teacher's  desk  should  have  been,  was 
a  throne;  and  on  the  throne  sat  the  Winter  King  with 
icicles  in  his  beard. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  the  snowman  and  the  little  boy, 
he  began  to  talk  very  fast :  — 

"  What  has  this  little  boy  been  doing?  Why  is  n't 
he  in  bed?  Come  here,  Jack  Frost,  and  tickle  his 
toes." 

"  Oh!  no,  no,"  cried  the  snowman.  "  He  has  done 
nothing  wrong.  He  is  one  of  my  best  friends, 
and  I  have  brought  him  here  with  me  to  ask  you 
not  to  let  the  sun  shine  to-morrow.  I  don't  want  to 
melt." 

"Ah!  hum!  ha!"  said  the  king.  "I  don't  know 
about  that.  You  will  have  to  melt  sometime,  won't 
you?" 


90  A    STORY    GARDEN 

"Of  course,"  said  the  snowman;  "but  I'd  like  to 
last  as  long  as  I  can."  It  made  the  little  boy  very  sad 
to  hear  him  talk  in  this  way.  He  thought  he  would 
rather  not  go  to  his  grandmother's  than  to  risk  the 
snowman  in  the  sun. 

"  We  are  very  fond  of  him,"  he  said  to  the  king. l 
"  He  's  the  finest  snowman  we  've  ever  seen,  and  he 
looks  just  as  if  he  were  smiling." 

"  So  he  does,"  said  the  king,  looking  at  the  snow- 
man again;  "  and  since  you  ask  it  I  '11  tell  you  what 
I  will  do.  I  cannot  keep  the  sun  from  shining,  but  I 
will  ask  the  North  Wind  to  freeze  the  snowman,  and 
perhaps  he  will  last  anyhow." 

When  the  snowman  heard  this  he  began  to  dance, 
and  as  the  little  boy  had  hold  of  one  of  his  stick  arms 
he  had  to  dance  too.  Together  they  danced  out  of 
the  Winter  King's  palace,  down  the  streets,  into  the 
field,  where  they  found  the  North  Wind  waiting  for 
them. 


THE   SNOWMAN 


91 


The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  blow  the  hat  from  the 
snowman's  head. 

"Archoo!  archoo!"  sneezed  the  snowman.  "I 
know  I  shall  catch  cold." 

And  "archoo!"  sneezed  the  little  boy;  and  he 
sneezed  so  loud  that  he  waked  himself  up,  for  —  do 
you  believe  it?  —  he  had  been  asleep  and  dreaming 
all  the  time! 

One  part  of  his  dream  came  true,  though,  for  when 
he  looked  out  of  the  window,  the  next  morning,  there 
stood  the  snowman  in  the  field  frozen  hard. 


